(love) ain't a thing
by ughayshia
Summary: It's a chance to turn the tables, and Jean's more than happy to oblige. Jean/Eren.


**A/N:** Bonus points to anyone who guesses the quote Jean was thinking of. Some rather vague porn that I warmed up with the other day. I do not own SnK/AoT, or the characters within it.

It's a curious thing, achieving a goal he's had shelved for a long time, but wondering exactly how he's gotten there. It's a situation Jean's imagined dozens of times, he'll confess. His mind has created a thousand ways rigid muscle would feel against his own, how plump lips would burn against his hammering pulse point, the tickle of _"getting too long, Eren, you need to cut it!"_ hair against a sensitive nipple as those plump lips traveled farther down.

He was, of course, never prepared for the reality.

Jean thinks it's probably inappropriate that he's quoting literature in his head when Eren's long fingers—ones he's spent so long admiring and daydreaming into doing this very same thing—are wrapping around his cock, but he can't stifle the sound he makes, barely a chuckle and more of a gasp, at the comparison of rocks and mountains to the creature before him.

Eren's got a jaw as strong as stone, smooth and rough, grooves creasing and plunging as any boulder would. It drops steeply into a fleshy waterfall and Jean stops his mouth's eager exploration only to nip curiously at the moss-covered rock of an Adam's apple. His shoulder blades are the kind of mountains only the bravest would ever dare climb, dipping into a valley consumed entirely by a peachy-pink river. The river runs deep south, past hills and grassy slopes into a pit, _deep and dark and searing hot—_

Jean is nothing if not brave during _this_ type of quest. (He's happy for a chance to turn the tables, at least. Eren's had him metaphorically on his knees and around his finger for longer than he's comfortable admitting.)

Two intrepid explorers, thick but limber, decide to investigate despite Eren's desperate whines against his shoulder of _toomuch_**_notenough_**, because honestly, if he waited for Eren's word of approval he would be waiting his whole goddamn life. Which would be fine if he wasn't sure his stamina would give out somewhere around his 40's. He hasn't been waiting half in love all these years to be a disappointment, thank you very much, so he'll take advantage of his youth while he can.

It's an easy stretch so he tells the man-boy in his arms to kindly shut the fuck up, cheerfully allowing a third explorer to join his comrades. His mouth has rather decided it likes the caverns Eren's collarbones make, lapping up the beads of sweat like the honey-water they are, satiating his hunger in the quivering moans that are being etched into his throat. Eren's a writhing, shivering mess against him, body an earthquake that Jean finds oddly fitting since he's always been a strange sort of natural disaster all on his own.

It's not until he's staring into the sea, a fathomless blue-green, crystal clear all at once, that he realizes this isn't going to last long. He's been waiting for what seems like eons, and Eren's always been the sort to be at either zero or one hundred on a ten-point scale in anything (Jean's grateful to realize that this remains a constant in sex). There's a salty ocean spray of pleasure-filled tears on his face as sandy-colored cheeks press against his forehead, and the roar of the ocean consumes him in the rut of Eren's dick against his stomach. The palms on his own unyielding hard-on are a fever hot desert, grasping the head and rubbing across the slit until he finally gives into absolution.

His orgasm feels unimportant, miniscule as he drinks up the image of _Eren_, pine needle lashes brushing across the blood-red sunset flush of his skin. Loud-mouthed, erratic Eren, still and absolutely frozen in satisfaction against him. It's a sight he hopes to see at least a million more times before he leaves this world, a thought which he makes a solemn vow to follow through on. But words would disturb the monumental importance of what has just happened, so Jean revels in the almost-silence around them, tightens his arms around the sinewy limbs of the lust (love?) of his life, and takes the time to revel in the fact that Eren's still unaware of it all, too.

A rather displaced, _'this is nice,_' filters across the last streams of his consciousness, but with a snort, he finds he can't help but agree.


End file.
